


This City's Walls

by FunnyLittleOwl



Series: home is wherever i'm with you [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, But Victor and Yuuri’s miscommunication problems reach a breaking point, Cartagena, Established Relationship, Lap dances to reggaeton music, M/M, Part of the travel!series, Possessive Yuuri, Second First Dates, Snowflake engraved rings, They have a holiday in the Caribbean, Tourists, Victor’s backstory, When a ghost from Victor’s past comes back to haunt them, World Travel, Yuuri had an injury, jealous yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 16:16:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11650194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunnyLittleOwl/pseuds/FunnyLittleOwl
Summary: “I like this city’s walls, Yuuri,” Victor faltered, “Because they resemble yours.”Yuuri turned to look at him.“I don’t hate them, I don’t resent them,” Victor said, exhausted. “I think they’re beautiful. I only wish you’ve kept me inside them, not out.”(In which things are not what they seem, Victor is half of Yuuri's snowflake and some secrets are finally revealed.)





	This City's Walls

**Author's Note:**

> Attention, passengers.
> 
> Please mind the gap between the train and the platform. If you happen to fall, the consequences might be quite painful (and possibly lethal).
> 
> Okay, so now we’re jumping on three. 
> 
> P.S.: There's no actual infidelity in this story. I know how it looks like, but trust the owl.

 

Yuuri never would have thought his trip to Colombia would go so well.

And he would have been right not to.  “Going well” wasn’t exactly how he’d describe this trip if a reporter suddenly emerged from the gutter right now and asked him how was he enjoying his vacation with his husband (also, Katsuki, what are your plans for the next season? Will there _be_ a next season?).

He sighed.

Either way, Cartagena de Indias wasn’t like any place he’d ever known.

For sixteen whole hours, the walled city on the edge of the Caribbean had offered him the peace of mind he’d been desperately searching for, escaping the cold Russian air for a few blissful days.

No wonder, the coastal city was truly beautiful with its white sand and colorful houses and a very impressive history as South America’s biggest fortress against pirate attacks to its name. A truly fascinating place.

The people helped as well, with everyone within sight looking unrushed and happy and so impossibly laid back that all Yuuri wanted was to bask in that feeling as well.

He sighed again.

He was supposed to be having the time of his life.

Instead, he watched as the whole city dared to glow around him while he stood resigned as an outsider, quietly wondering whether he still belonged to his own life and if there were such miracles in this cosmos such as second chances.

Yuuri hated how smoothly the universe seemed to run despite of his misery.

It was a shame that even the sun seemed to be out to mock him today.

He was sure it wasn’t personal. It was the Sun. It shone fiery from millions of miles away in the galaxy and it had no particular grudge against Yuuri – or anyone, for that matter, regardless of what this week’s horoscope had to say. It was an enormous, insentient star – just trying to mind its own business in the center of the solar system. You know, lighting up the Earth.

A respectable, honorable job that _someone_ had to do.

The Sun did. Yuuri was very grateful.

But could it just _not_?

He didn’t mean to be rude. Yuuri didn’t have anything against the sun either. Just… he wouldn’t mind if it shone in a different color today.

His knee hurt, Victor was gone and the twilight in Colombia was awfully, awfully beautiful.

The sunset painted the streets gold and made for a dazzling scene as it lit up the buildings à la Spanish colonial style and gave the town an ethereal atmosphere from dawn to dusk.

 _Gold_ , he snorted, bitter.

There wasn’t anything _quite_ like gold, was there? Yuuri had promised himself not to think about it, something so trivial, so silly, not _now_. Not when so much else was this close of being lost forever.

But what’s there about gold so special that plain _silver_ would never compare?

Silver, the color that Yuuri knew well. Silver, that was the color of his first victory. His latest defeat.

_Silver, like the place he held in Victor’s heart._

If the sun shone silver today when Yuuri had woken up, this would have been a remarkably different story.

Perhaps an entirely different world altogether.

It was still gold, so this is the one we’re going to tell.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The night before, Yuuri arrived at the open air bar a little earlier than he had meant to do. He arrived alone. That was the plan.

Not that he could do much else. Victor had long disappeared from their hotel room. The moment he slammed the door, Yuuri felt the post-argument drop coming to him worse than it ever did before and he lost his footing, falling to the floor on his knees.

It was all his fault.

He did this.

He broke them.

Victor was resolute in his decision.

Now Yuuri has the one who had to go and to fix it for them.

 _Or,_ Yuuri thought darkly, _I’m just gonna go and make it worse. Why not?_

It was a fifty-fifty chance. Just like the doctors had told him. That’s what drove Yuuri to dress up, slick his hair back and head to the open club.

Nevertheless, Yuuri was incredibly nervous when he stepped inside, already regretting his decision to partake in such a childish peeve.

He didn’t need this. He didn’t need to prove to Victor that he…

“ _Caipirinha_?” Asked the brunette waitress who was wearing a red crop top two sizes too small for her to be comfortable. She was absolutely lovely with her dark curls braided across her back and her toothy, easy smile.

Yuuri wasn’t interested in the slightest.

“Not yet, thanks.”

He decided to watch the crowd lose themselves to the music for a while, carefully planning his next move.

He had heard that Cartagenan nights were especially vibrant, which was not unusual for a city that experienced sweltering temperatures all year round. One could easily see why. Not even fifteen minutes in and three different people had already tried to take him out on an off-the-cut salsa lesson on the dance floor “for free, _gringo_ ”.

Yuuri blushed furiously his way out of the blatant propositions. It was too early in the evening for this and he hadn’t had a single drop of alcohol within him to help him deal with this sort of… thing.

He didn’t come for this, anyway. He had a job to do and he had to stay focused. There was too much at stake here. Any second now. Any second now and they might appear.

You know who. Yuuri hardly gave a fuck anymore. _The one_. The one who could make him forget this whole ordeal in a blink of an eye if he only knew how to ask right.

They could be here right now. Yuuri just needed to find them.

 _Is it you?,_ Yuuri asked, turning his gaze back to the dance floor. _Or is it you?_

Any moment now. He was ready. Yuuri thought, then decided against taking his glasses off and keeping them on his pocket. He was meant to be only himself tonight. That would help.

 _Breathe,_ he told himself. _Three, two, one…_

_Action._

Yuuri looked around searching for something. A sign.

All he found was a beautiful stranger making eyes at him across the room.

_It’s you._

It wasn’t like Yuuri hadn’t spotted him before; the man was being quite obvious about it. But Yuuri pretended not to see him for many reasons.

Because if Yuuri did this, would he be giving in to Victor’s wishes or going against him?

Did Yuuri even care to know? He _could_ go back right now. Nothing was stopping him.

Yuuri’s internal struggle apparently didn’t matter to the man in slightest, because once they locked eyes, he parted his way through the crowd toward Yuuri with unmistakable intent.

 _Danger, danger_ , his brain helplessly provided. _You need to decide now. How will you proceed?_

Yuuri thought about Victor.

He thought about their fight.

He thought about how he could potentially lose him forever depending on his actions tonight.

Yuuri proceeded with caution.

_A fresh start, you say?_

If he was gonna do this, then he was gonna do it his way. He knew by now his ostensibly coy demeanor was enough to lure his prey in before Eros took over. And that was exactly the approach he was going for. He still had time. He could do this.

 _Be interesting_ , a lecturing voice resounded distantly in his mind, sharp as a blade. _Mysterious but harmless. That’s when you’re the sexiest, you know._

“The restroom is over there,” was what he ended up saying. That made the man blurt out a surprised laugh.

“How did you know I was looking for it?” He went along with it clearly amused by Yuuri’s unorthodox flirting methods.

“I saw it in your eyes.”

“Oh, really?” The man arched an eyebrow. “You must be really good at reading people, then. Anything else you might have noticed?”

“I’m actually terrible at reading people. But I _have_ been watching you for a while, you know.” Yuuri gave him a knowing simile. The man’s eyes softened for a second. “And I see that the ‘restroom’ is code for wanting to buy me a drink. So yes, I’d love that.”

“Wasting no time, are we?”

“There’s no need to beat around the bush. We’re both consenting adults. We’ve been here too many times not to know how this goes.”

“Wow, a romantic,” he reproved, shaking his head amusedly. “What if I told you I have no expectations for this drink other than hoping to get to know you more?”

_Yeah, I know._

_That’s what I’m afraid of._

“I’d say it’d sound fake coming from literally anyone else, but something tells me… not from you, I guess,” Yuuri said, a bit more honest than he had intended.

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re like me. Our reasons for being here tonight are different from everyone else’s.”

There was silence as they evaluated each other thoroughly. _Too close?_

“You mean you’re not planning on dancing?” The man said at last, playfully. “I can assure you that I am.”

“Good,” Yuuri murmured in assent. “So am I.”

“How about that drink now then?”

Yuuri smiled. He took his hand and led him to the bar table that was across the street.

It was a bohemian neighborhood, sporting a long strip of café-bars, discotheques and music venues alive with tourists and locals. Different music rumbled in every establishment they passed by and it all turned into a myriad of sounds that was still pleasant somehow, a courtesy of Latin’s rhythms and lyrics.

Once they had their drinks in hands, Yuuri couldn’t help but ask once more.

“What did you say this one was called again?”

“ _Aguardiente_ ,” the man clarified. “It’s anise-flavored. A must try here, actually.”

“So, you speak Spanish,” Yuuri obliged and downed half the glass in one go, grimacing as he did it. “But you’re not from around here.”

“Very little, actually. And no, I’m not. Where I’m from is irrelevant tonight, really,” he winked and took a sip of his glass himself.

“I’m glad. I feel the same way.” Yuuri confessed, testing the waters between them. “Wow, that’s strong stuff. It’s already… You know, I’ve never been to Colombia before. It’s nothing like I imagined.”

“Surprisingly, I have not, either. Not before this trip.”

“Why is that? Do you travel a lot?”

“You could say that, yes.”

“I didn’t use to travel that much,” Yuuri admitted. “That completely changed in the last few years and I couldn’t be more grateful about it. It’s the best part of my year.”

“Glad you think that way. I always say I travel not to escape life…”

“… but for life not to escape me.” Yuuri completed without thinking. “Sorry.”

“Oh,” he said astonished. “Is that a famous quote? I didn’t realize.”

“Kind of. I just hear it a lot.”

The man smirked.

“So, you were saying about Colombia?”

“I wasn’t aware it was this fascinating? The beach water here is crystal clear, I’ve never seen that before.”

“That’s because Cartagena is part of the Caribbean, even though it’s not in Central America. But, you know, it’s really different from Southern American cities as well. The town was built to be a fortress against pirate attacks in the XVI century; so that’s why the whole central area is inside these walls.”

“Pirates?” Yuuri echoed. “That’s really interesting. I’ve wondered about the walls, but I assumed it was a defense against normal things, not Captain Jack Sparrow.”

The man laughed. “Well, that one _is_ a Pirate of the Caribbean, after all. Either way, they didn’t get here much after that. Cartagena was a impregnable city by the late 1500’s. But now these fortifications along the coast just make it all the more appealing, don’t you think?”

“It’s definitely part of its charm,” Yuuri agreed. “So you’re a history buff. I can get behind that. Is that part of _your_ charm or you’re just making this up to impress me?”

“It’s my involuntary charm,” he clarified, grinning. “I can’t help but get excited about cool historical facts. It’s not like I’m trying. If I were to use my _full_ -force charm on you, though, you’d know it.”

“Really?”

“The whole Walled City would know it.”

Yuuri let that comment slide for his own sake.

“But enough of me,” he said. “What can you tell me about yourself? Not what you do for a living, that’s boring. Something you feel like it’s important to know about you. For instance, I like history, languages, photography, _dogs_. What’s important to you?”

“Well, I love ballet,” Yuuri admitted. “I love dancing in general. I would have been a professional danseur if I hadn’t gotten so involved in my actual career from such a young age.”

“What stopped you?”

“This other thing that’s very important to me as well. I don’t regret a second of it, though. I’m happy with my choices. Dance is still a big part of who I am.”

“Let me guess,” the man said. “You fell in love.”

“You could say that, yes,” Yuuri parroted his response from earlier with a strained laugh.

“Well, a toast to that,” he raised his glass in invitation. “To being in love.”

Yuuri eyed him suspiciously, but did the same. “Cheers.”

The man looked like he was about to deepen the subject by drawing attention to something that was on their minds, but Yuuri stopped him before he could start. “We’re not talking about that tonight.”

“About what?” he asked too innocently.

“Nothing,” Yuuri settled on that. “Nothing, really.”

“It’s simple,” The man caught on Yuuri’s concern all the same. There was a knowing glint in his eyes as he explained, “You don’t mind the gold ring in my hand, I don’t mind yours.”

“That simple, huh?”

“Very.”

“You’re used to doing this, then?”

The man looked both surprised and hurt by Yuuri’s question. “No.”

“Okay.”

“You?” he asked, hesitantly.

“Me neither,” Yuuri looked down. “I thought it was plain to see.”

“It isn’t. You just... have this way about you,” the man said in an almost regretful tone.

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you wouldn’t.”

Yuuri didn’t mean to make this weird. It just happened, of course, as it tended to happen with him.

"Why don’t we walk around the street for a bit?” Yuuri offered, trying to clean up the air between them. “I saw so much on my way here. It’s like a labyrinth of restaurants, shops, bars, cathedrals; it must be amazing to go exploring all the hidden things only locals know about.”

“Oh? Of course. We can go if you’ve finished,” he said, wavering, like he’s been caught off guard. But off they went.

It wasn’t long until the man finally felt comfortable to open up again and was already sharing new tidbits about the city’s architecture and how it was like “both Republican and Baroque” in its style and deeply resembled “Havana and New Orleans” and “Oh, look! _Empanadas_! You must try them!”

Women in traditional garb passed by them with bowls of mangoes on their heads and the man took photos of them, saying it was “generally good karma to buy something or offer them money for it”. Yuuri was honestly just having a lot of fun, like he wasn’t expecting from tonight.

It wasn’t weird anymore. Yuuri had thought the night was over after things got too serious for a second, but the whole exchange seemed to be forgotten between them. Or at least, put aside.

Yuuri was grateful all the same.

“They keep trying to put this hat in my head,” Yuuri complained after a while.

“They’re not very subtle about their vending techniques, are they,” the man laughed.

“I wouldn’t have minded in once, but seven times is seriously a bit too much.”

“Why don’t you just buy the hat?”

“The other six sellers would mob me, though,” Yuuri pondered. “I just want to be able to enjoy the city in peace.”

“A bit different from Japan, I’d say,” the man went on, still amused.

Yuuri stopped.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” Yuuri assured. “It’s actually just… my knee.”

“Is it hurting again? Do you want to sit?”

“Actually, I… Do you think we could head back to the club now?”

It _was_ hurting. A lot more now they were walking. Yuuri had his prescription drugs for it in his pocket, but he didn’t want to take them right now in front of him. He was planning on taking a little more than he was allowed.

“We’re already heading that way, don’t worry,” the man assured.

“Oh, are we? I have a terrible sense of direction.”

“So I’ve noticed. We’ve been walking in circles for the last five minutes,” he smiled.

“I guess I’ll just let you lead, then,” Yuuri blushed.

The man extended his arm in an almost unconscious gesture and Yuuri took it.

Once they were inside the club again, salsa had given room to reggaeton music and the atmosphere shifted considerably on the dance floor. Yuuri had always known that people south of the Equator were a lot more skilled in that department than he was used to, but it was something else to witness it in person.

The way their bodies moved to the music, it was almost like… _god_.

Yuuri was impressed. He desperately wanted to try it. He was sure his companion wouldn’t mind watching him at it, or even participate if he felt like it.

But first, he needed to go take care of that damn knee.

He excused himself quickly to go to the restroom and took out those pills. He actually took less than he was intending because he wanted to be sharp for what he wanted to do next.

That’s how he was going to sell the deal. Dancing had never failed him and it wouldn’t start now, not when it’s always been his strongest suit. And it’s worked before, so there.  

By the end of the night, it would all go back to normal.

When he emerged from his self-pep talk in the mirror, tough, he didn’t like what he saw at all. Not one bit.

_What the fuck?_

He spotted the man leaning on a balcony, talking to someone Yuuri’s never seen before. Like he’s forgotten all about Yuuri already.

 _Him_. And some guy. Some dark-haired guy with brown eyes, that looked disturbingly like Yuuri. And why were they standing so close?

The man looked serious as they talked over the loud music.

_What’s going on?_

The dark-haired touched his arm.

_That’s it._

Yuuri strolled towards them immediately without thinking, when he heard something even more disturbing.

 _And_ what _exactly did he call you?_

“Excuse me,” Yuuri said by way of introduction, unceremoniously standing between them, “But he’s promised me a dance.”

His companion opened his mouth to say something, it was probably important, but Yuuri didn’t care. He was already dragging him away from the dark-haired menace and into the dance floor, the only place in the battlefield where his success was practically guaranteed.

_No one told me I was gonna have to fight for you like that as well._

“Yuuri…” he whined.

“Hush.”

_You’re mine._

“What about your knee?”

“I’m not planning on using it.”

Yuuri pushed the man back on a chair as the next [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nf6UCfL_xCc) started, sitting on top of him and wrapping his legs around him.

It was a sensual rhythm, a famous hit in a different version, one of Victor’s favorites. The singer sang in French, and for once, Yuuri knew all the words.

Yuuri started slow, running his hands carefully over his chest and moving his hips in time with the beat. The man arched back, helplessly searching for more contact. He looked like he was in a loss for words.

 _Yeah, good,_ Yuuri thought, triumphant. _Don’t think about anything else. Don’t ever take your eyes off me._

Yuuri removed his hands and touched his own body with them, modeling them after the music. The man took the opportunity to encircle Yuuri’s waist with his fingers, but Yuuri wasn’t having that.

He grabbed both of his hands and pinned them over his head next to a wall.

“What else do I need to do to seduce you?” Yuuri asked desperately.

“Not much,” he admitted, biting back a moan when Yuuri kissed his earlobe. “You’re enough, _solnyshko_.”

“What’s that again?” Yuuri demanded, rubbing lightly against his crotch.

“You’re always enough, Yuuri.”

Yuuri nipped his neck then in reward, undoing the first button of his shirt.

He enjoyed making him feel powerless, having all the control to himself for once. Yuuri let go of the man’s hands over their heads and started dancing even more suggestively on his lap.

The man’s hard-on was much more evident now that Yuuri was sitting directly on it, and that seemed to be the breaking point for him. The man lost it.

He grabbed Yuuri’s face and started to kiss him frantically, which Yuuri allowed for a few seconds or so, afraid of getting too caught into it as well.

He pushed away with a firm hand to the man’s chest, turning his head to the side with a mischievous smirk and using the hand there as leverage for his next movements.

The man behaved quite admirably until the end of the song despite of his obvious erection, singing softly the parts that he knew into Yuuri’s ear.

“ _Avant que le jour se lève_ ,” he sang like a confession, “ _Faire que jamais tu ne m'oublieras_.”

Yuuri kissed him sweetly on the lips as the notes faded into nothing, in contrast to the dirty motions of his body from moments before.  

“Should I leave you a tip?” the man joked teasingly, voice trembling against his best efforts.

“You might as well,” Yuuri humored him, “Since you would never be able to actually afford me.”

“This says otherwise,” the man risked, fiddling with the ring on Yuuri’s finger.

“Oh, this,” Yuuri conceded. “You see, my husband and I have a pretty open relationship. I can kiss anyone I want, as long as they’re silver-haired Russian champions with receding hairlines.”

“Well, I guess it’s my lucky day then,” the man said with a tentative smile.

 _Oh, Victor, you’re_ so _ridiculous._

“Your husband must be a very understanding man,” he went on, unaware that the act was already over.

Yuuri put a finger to his lips.

“Yeah, well, he is. But I’m not. I keep him on a very tight leash. I’m the only one he can kiss. The only one, you hear?”

“I’m sure he would never dream otherwise.”

“You think so?”

“I know so,” Victor made it clear. “Yuuri, I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay now,” Yuuri said. “It’s all fine. We’re fine.”

Yuuri held on to him for a minute longer.

“But do you wanna get out of here?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It wasn’t the best idea Victor’s ever had.

Not that Yuuri had any say on the matter right there, what with Victor turning aloof with concealed fury like Yuuri’s never seen him and slamming the door shut behind him.

It’s just that his solutions to their fights were usually so much more composed and diplomatic than this – the Game of Uncomfortable Truths the finest example in that category. Victor wasn’t the most rational person himself, but he had proven time after time he understood the importance of getting to the root of a problem (and addressing all branches of possible misunderstandings) if they _really_ wanted to overcome an obstacle in their relationship.

Yuuri must have driven him to his breaking point if that was the Victor he was faced with earlier that day, cold and stoic as if Yuuri was a stranger, a student he was scolding, and not his own husband.

“If that’s how you feel, Yuuri, then I won’t try to stop you.”

It was a badly timed trip, that’s what it was.

It was always risky to embark on vacation right after a competition, when every outcome was a likely alternative. If Yuuri won, it was great. The mood was great, the sex was great, they were more in sync and in love than ever; it was honeymoon phase all over again.

It was when he _didn’t_ that their relationship was sometimes put to test.

In his defense, Yuuri _had_ learned to lose gracefully over the years, having such talented skaters such as Yurio and JJ as his direct competition. His problem wasn’t as much losing as it was his anxiety whispering to him that all his wins were flukes and everyone would see him for the fraud that he was in the next season.

This time, though, he hadn’t exactly lost. He had come in respectable second place after JJ in Worlds, a position he was more than comfortable with, now at the same age Victor was when he had first retired.

A silver medal at 27.

At the small price of his left knee.

It was always a possibility. Every skater knew it the moment they entered the rink and it only got more likely the older they grew and the looser their joints became.

Yuuri fell on the landing of his last jump, a quad lutz, hitting his knee badly on the ice and prompting Victor to bravely attempt to run to him with his shoes on despite of the paramedic’s warnings not to get closer.

Yuuri closed his eyes then and thought _this is it._ This is how it ends.

 _Apparently, that might not necessarily be the case_ , he learned later while lying down on a hospital stretcher with Victor by his side.

His injury was a moderate one, but it was possible that he could come back for one more season of figure skating if the knee was treated carefully, if Yuuri got loads of rest, went to physiotherapy and maybe got a bit lucky.

Yuuri would rather hear “Sorry, you can’t skate anymore. My condolences,” at this point.

The waiting, the pointless hoping, the overexerting, it was worse than a definite answer that might put Yuuri at ease and able to move on with his life.

The worst part, though? Victor wholeheartedly believed he would make a full recovery.

 _Many skaters have suffered major injuries before, even worse than yours, and managed to come back for one if not more seasons_ , his husband said on repeat for the first days after the accident.

It reminded Yuuri of a conversation they once had while dining at a little pizza place in Budapest, eons ago.

Things were simpler then.

 _Are you sure you still want to go to South America?_ , Victor would insist _. We can postpone the trip if you’re not feeling 100%, it doesn’t matter if the doctors say you’re clear. We can stay and continue your treatment at home._

 _We can go and continue it in Colombia. It doesn’t matter where we are_ , Yuuri retorted until they were inside the plane a few days later.

Yuuri didn’t tell him he wanted to go because he had already given up.

He was ashamed.

The flashback burned at the corner of his eye.

“I’m not angry anymore,” Victor continued in the same detached tone, looking through Yuuri as if the dusty window behind him was a far more interesting view. “It’s your life. I can’t tell you what to do.”

Yuuri’s had this scene on repeat for a while now. He knew which words he said did it. The moment he heard them coming out of his own mouth, he wished he could take them back immediately. He knew he shouldn’t be allowed to speak under such intense pain and pent-up frustration, but Victor had _pushed_ him and still, it was no excuse; Yuuri knew he had gone too far.

“It makes me wonder, though, if I even know who you are anymore,” Victor said, frowning.

“You never did.”

_No._

“You only ever saw what suited you. Don’t play dumb now, please. We both know this is the real me. A weak little thing, a quitter, that’s all there is to it. And you _hate_ it, Victor. You resent me for holding you back and it’s eating you _alive._ Admit it!”

Silence.

_Let me take it back, now._

Victor stood there, unmoved.

“Typical. You like putting words in my mouth when you want the easy way out,” Victor said finally, his voice as cold as ice. “Thank you for your honesty, Yuuri,” he bowed in a sign of mockery.

“You want the way out? I’ll give you the way out. You say I don’t know you, that I never did, isn’t that so?” Victor accused as he walked towards the door with growing intent. “What reason do we have to be married then? Who _is_ exactly this person who’s sharing my life and wearing my ring?”

Yuuri could only freeze as he heard the words that came next.

“Indeed. What makes you think I’d even like such a stranger?”

Yuuri might say reckless things when he’s angry, but Victor… Victor was downright _cruel_.

“The choice is yours either way. Our marriage is in your hands - not that you care. You have one chance to make me fall in love with you again from scratch. If you’re interested, meet me at the bar in _Getsemaní_ at 10.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Yuuri,” Victor moaned helplessly as Yuuri pushed him on top of their hotel bed, covering the Russian’s body with his own.

Victor’s upper body tried to follow Yuuri’s movements and capture his mouth in a desperate kiss, but Yuuri refused him for the second time that night.

“I was out of line,” Yuuri said into the crook of his neck, “But you don’t get to talk to me like that. Ever again, understand?”

Victor used his free arms to wrap his arms around Yuuri in a tight embrace, holding him close to his chest.

“Yes,” he rasped.

“You don’t get to make me think you’re leaving,” Yuuri tried his hardest not to break down as he voiced his biggest fear. “You don’t get to walk out like that. Make me fight for you. Test me. Unless… unless you mean it, of course. Did you? Did I pass your _experiment_?”

“There was never a test, Yuuri,” Victor said firmly. “That wasn’t fair to you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, _solnyshko_. How much I love you was never in question. Nothing you did you could ever change that.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Yuuri’s eyes softened. “I said… horrible things to you. I didn’t mean any of it either. Of course you know me, Vitya. You know me better than anyone else in the entire world. We’re _stupid_ ,” Yuuri kissed his brow softly. “We’re so stupid,” then harder, closing his eyes.

They just lay there together in silence for a while, breathing haggardly until their heartbeats became one.

_Breathe, Yuuri. He’s here._

When Victor eventually pulled him into a kiss again, slowly exploring the insides of his mouth, like he had once told Yuuri it “soothed” him, Yuuri noticed that his husband’s face was wet.

Victor was crying.

Victor had broken down under Yuuri’s mouth.

A sob came out of him, then two, then Yuuri had to restrain himself from following right suit.

It was to show how much an extension of Yuuri’s own body Victor was that Yuuri still allowed him do his thing, ignoring the salt of his tears, his running nose, his body sweat, his breath. It was all Victor, so Yuuri couldn’t be disgusted by it.

They went beyond this.

_They almost lost this._

Again.

“I love you,” Yuuri mouthed the words, because he felt like he didn’t tell him enough.

“Oh, Yuuri,” Victor mumbled, pushing away for a second to look at him, “You don’t even know…”

Yuuri wiped the tears from his eyes with his thumbs and kissed him harder.

They kissed and kissed and kissed until Yuuri’s lips were numb; until every touch of their lips were a silent apology and a promise to be better to each other, to be kinder, to never take what they had for granted.

_That was too close. You scared me._

Yuuri wasn’t sure how much later it was when they were interrupted by the sound of Victor’s phone.

Yuuri took it as a cue to stop straddling him; his entire weight had been on Victor this whole time, it couldn’t have been comfortable for him. Yuuri moved to lie down on the curve of Victor’s arm, planting butterfly kisses on his neck as the Russian checked his phone.

Victor’s full body went tense for a second, then he dropped his phone on the side of the bed. Yuuri stopped his ministrations, confused.

Victor didn’t say anything, so Yuuri didn’t press. This truce between was still fragile as it was.

“Are you hungry?” was what Yuuri said instead. “Do you think room service is still taking orders? I know it’s late.”

“What do you want to eat?”

“Something light. Maybe some tea and toast? Fruit too, if they have it.”

“You want me to call reception and check?” Victor smiled, knowing full well where Yuuri was getting with this.

“I _always_ want you to call reception and check,” Yuuri blushed, trying to gradually lighten up the mood by admitting to something embarrassing. “It’s the worst part of any day - talking on the phone with strangers.”

“Okay,” Victor complied. He stood up and squeezed Yuuri’s hand before leaving the bed. “I’ll call. Just give me a sec.”

He took his phone with him to the bathroom. Yuuri didn’t move, lying quietly on the bed for minutes while mindlessly watching the ceiling.

When Victor came back, he still looked a little off, almost like he had just seen a ghost.

Perhaps he was still just as shaken about this as Yuuri felt on the inside.

Yuuri turned the TV on and put it on something nondescript enough, a wildlife documentary with Spanish subtitles, so white noise could fill up the room with something other than that feeling of imminent dread.

They ate in silence, bringing the tray of food with them to bed. Yuuri would normally oppose to this, but it was an exceptional occurrence. The table was fine, but the problem was that the chairs were too far apart. An irrational part of Yuuri needed Victor as close to him as possible right now and sitting with him on the mattress was as good as it could get in the moment.

Victor eventually moved up on the bed until his back was resting on the headboard and Yuuri was finally able to snuggle up against him, laying his head gently on Victor’s thigh.

They watched TV like that, or rather Victor watched as Yuuri reveled on the sensation of having Victor’s fingers running through his hair in a calming, reassuring manner.

It had been a long day.

Yuuri was tired.

It seemed like his drugs were finally in effect, because he just wanted to curl up right there and sleep until his eyes wore out. He closed his eyes.

“Yuuri,” Victor called and brought Yuuri back to life for a second.

“Hmmm…”

“You know you’re the only one for me, don’t you?”

“Who else would be? You never get out of the house.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know you like to believe that, Vitya,” Yuuri yawned. “I’m grateful you feel that way. But still, my silly _brain_ likes to believe that I just got very, very lucky to keep you… no matter what I try to tell it. I was afraid of losing you today.”

Victor bit his lip.

“I know.”

Yuuri closed his eyes again and felt sleep clouding around the edges of his mind. He was ready to give in when a sudden thought popped up.

“You didn’t have to make it so real by chatting up with that man, though.”

The fingers around his head stopped.

Victor sighed, disconcerted.

“I knew him.”

Yuuri didn’t even register the words being said as the drugs kicked in and forced him to sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When Yuuri woke up the next day, Victor was fixing himself up in the mirror of the room. He wore white, as he usually did whenever they traveled to tropical destinations. It suited him, but he just looked far too much awake for Yuuri.

“I was hoping you’d wake up soon,” Victor gave him a tight smile.

“Something the matter?” Yuuri murmured, bothered by the brightness coming from all the windows.

“Not exactly,” Victor said, coming to sit on the bed next to Yuuri. “But I need to tell you something.”

Yuuri stretched his arms and sat up, eyes suddenly wide open with expectation.

“What is it?”

“I got a message yesterday. There’s someone I used to know here in town, and they… asked if we could meet.”

Yuuri laughed, amused by his serious tone. “Who can you possibly know in Colombia? Did you really watch too much Narcos?”

Victor didn’t laugh.

“No. They’re not from around here, just passing by, like you and me.”

It was then it hit Yuuri like a moving truck.

_I knew him._

_I knew him._

_I knew him._

“Is it the man from yesterday?” Yuuri asked cautiously. “The dark-haired guy from the club?”

“Yes.”

_Please, god, no._

_Not when I just got him back._

“Where do you know him from?”

“France. From where my grandmother was born, Marseille.”

“Were you… friends?”

“We were friends when I was a little boy, yes.”

“And after you’ve grown,” Yuuri continued, possibly sounding a bit pedantic, “Were you two ever… involved?”

Victor wouldn’t meet his eyes as he answered. “For a while, yeah.”

“What does he want?”

“I don’t know,” Victor shrugged. “He said he just wants to talk.”

“So you’re going to meet him.”

“That’s precisely the point of this conversation, yes”.

“You don’t need my permission to go.”

“I know I don’t,” Victor agreed, sounding a bit exasperated. “Still, I wanted to tell you.”

“Well,” Yuuri tried to remain carefully neutral, “Go.”

“Yuuri…”

“Go.”

Yuuri turned to the side, hiding Victor from his sight, and rearranged the sheets over his body.

“I have to, Yuuri,” Victor said in a trembling voice. “You know I wouldn’t if it wasn’t important. I don’t want to upset you. But it’s been years. And with Antoine, it hasn’t… it hasn’t ended well.”

Yuuri closed his eyes again.

He heard Victor stand up and move hesitantly around the room. He heard him grab his wallet and put on his shoes.

“Who was he to you?” Yuuri asked then, facing a grey wall.

“Antoine?” Victor said distantly, like he’d been caught up in a memory from long ago. He turned the doorknob open. “He was my first love.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

So this is how Yuuri lost him.

On a beautiful Saturday afternoon, while treading softly at the sea.

Or rather, this is how Yuuri let him go.

There was no sign of Victor all morning and Yuuri soon realized he would not wait around like a good husband for him to return. He refused. He left the hotel, picked a direction and went, and eventually he found himself at the shore.

Yuuri had always known this day would come. He couldn’t keep him forever if Victor wanted to go, but _god_ , Yuuri had hoped he could.

Yuuri had hoped Victor would never come to his senses.

But Yuuri wasn’t stupid either. He couldn’t win every fight, as best as he tried. He knew his strengths, knew how to amplify them, he knew what only _he_ could provide to Victor to satisfy him, to keep him around. He had learned to trust himself throughout the years, up to a point.

But in all of his doubt, he’s never once expected this. Losing to a ghost. To a faceless name. _Antoine_ , an unexpected appearance in the Caribbean that made Victor Nikiforov go running.

Don’t mistake him. Yuuri knew that Victor would never cheat on him, could swear it on his life. It was out of the question. But once the door was open, what stopped him from starting to wonder?

How long would it be until he realized Yuuri wasn’t enough? That he missed something else - something he’s had, something he knew again where he could find?

What stopped him from leaving Yuuri behind to go after his past all on his own?

Yuuri knew the answer to that. _Nothing._

He had tried his best. He’s made Victor happy for years. He could be proud of that and it carry it in his heart always.

But in the end, he wasn’t enough. End of story.

Yuuri didn’t realize he’d been climbing on a very unstable path of rocks. He supposed it was the way to the fortress Victor had mentioned earlier. On his walk throughout the city, Yuuri noticed some of them stood in ruins as they connected different parts of the wall, but this one was mostly whole and had the greatest view of all.

Perhaps all he needed right now was just to see things from a different perspective.

He reached the top, breathless. Yuuri didn’t have much to explore. Peaked ears appeared along the walls around him, decrepit weapons raised to crenels, dusty cannons pointed towards the beach.

His knee ached, but he hadn’t finished making this point to himself.

He sat down next to where a cannon was positioned, a big hole in the structure, spreading his legs over the fissure that ended on the shore.

Yuuri then wished he had brought sunglasses with him in his haste to get out of the room, to protect him from the harsh sunset light coming directly at his face from over the horizon.

He wanted to be able to see his next actions clearly, but in a way, it was better that he didn’t.

Yuuri knew he had already made his choice. He wouldn’t stay to watch Victor fall out of love with him in little fragments of time, like he had already threatened to last night.

How much of that was really honest? _Antoine_ was there. Yuuri was the one who kept them from talking. What must the man think of Yuuri now? Needy, clingy Yuuri holding on to a thread. The Frenchman was handsome, he knew he would be able to reclaim what was rightfully his in a second if Yuuri wasn’t in the picture.

Thankfully for him, Yuuri wasn’t a particularly hard smudge to wipe out of the canvas.

No. Yuuri wouldn’t let Victor resent him. Wouldn’t let him grow bored. Wouldn’t let him discard him.

Yuuri took off his ring.

He inspected its insides for one last time.

He remembers the day he chose it in Barcelona, years ago. A gold pair of rings, with a snowflake engraving that was only complete with if you had the other part. He gave half of it to Victor, half of his snowflake.

 _A thank you present for all that you’ve done_ , he said, slipping it on Victor’s finger.

Yuuri spoke in metaphors when he was afraid - and Victor was only starting to learn that secret language back then, a challenge to even his polyglot mind.

Yuuri really meant: _Thank you for showing me a unique kind of love that I’ll never experience again for as long as I live._

_You’re half of my snowflake, Victor, and no snowflakes in the world are ever the same._

He lifted his ring up to the air. The sun blinded him ( _it’s mocking you, mocking you_ ).

He aimed at the endless ocean ahead of him, and made to throw it.

_Goodbye, my love._

His phone rang. It beeped insistently on his pocket.

He knew he should have simply kept it turned off.

If it was Victor again, Yuuri would simply ignore.

It wasn’t.

It was Phichit.

 

 **Phichit:** where. are you.

 

Oh, _no._  Even Phichit had been dragged into this. Yuuri was sure he could just die right now with shame.

 

 **Yuuri:** if i tell you, you’re just going to tell victor

 

 **Phichit:** yuuri, this is serious. he’s been after you like crazy. calling me for hours, like _i_ would know.

 **Phichit:** the hell i would. you’ve been radio silent to me for the past two weeks.

 **Phichit:** btw, you’re in colombia??

 **Phichit:** it’s like you’ve forgotten i’m your best friend.

 

 **Yuuri:** i’m sorry.

 

 **Phichit:** i’m not gonna ask you what happened.

 **Phichit:** it’s hardly my place and you know i respect your decisions, always

 **Phichit:** but yuuri. please call him.

 **Phichit:** i’ve never heard victor like that

 **Phichit:** just tell him that you’re okay.

 

Yuuri thought he could cry.

 

 **Yuuri:** i can’t talk to him right now, phichit.

 

 **Phichit:** let me, then?

 **Phichit:** yuuri, i know what you’re thinking, darling.

 **Phichit:** you can’t run from your husband forever.

 **Phichit:** you’re sabotaging yourself, i know it

 **Phichit:** so please

 **Phichit:** please

 **Phichit:** can you at least give him a hint?

 

 **Yuuri:** a hint?

 

 **Phichit:** what’s the sight from where you’re standing?

 **Phichit:** you can choose to answer it or not.

 

Yuuri sighed. He saved the ring on his shirt’s pocket with a grimace.

 

 **Yuuri:** the sea. from up high.

 

 **Phichit:** right. i hope he knows what to do with that information, cuz i sure don’t.

 **Phichit:** this isn’t over, yuuri. i’m checking on you soon.

 

Yuuri put his phone down.

He kept watching the ocean for a long time. How the waves slid back and forth, wiping out the markings on the sand.

He supposed it would be thoughtless to throw his gift to Victor away, when it was ultimately Victor’s for the keeping. The most Yuuri could do was give it back, surrender his half instead of giving it away to oblivion.

He didn’t need the snowflake to be reminded of his love. Not when, from time to time, it still snowed in Hasetsu in the month of April, while the sakura were still in bloom.

_Like the day we first met._

Yuuri felt the weight of a body dropping down beside him.

He didn’t turn to look at them to know who they were. He didn’t need to.

The man sighed.

“You know,” Victor started hesitantly, watching the sea alongside him. “They didn’t have cannons like these to strike the invaders when they first came. The pirates of the Caribbean, I mean. It was a French captain, Martin Cote, I just read. He struck Cartagena with a thousand men, ransacking and pillaging until a fire completely destroyed the city.”

Yuuri let out a vague sound of acknowledgement, but he was very confused.

“They built these walls to keep them out,” Victor continued, still looking ahead. “And after that, the city began to flourish again. It was a center of cultural, economic and political activity for all of South America. They created their own identity for themselves - it’s beautiful, as you’ve most likely noticed. Poets wrote about Cartagena, the world dreamed about its natural wonders.”

Yuuri had no idea where he was getting with this.

“Which made me realize. What need does Cartagena have for these walls anymore? There’s no threat to keep it safe from. No more danger of the city burning to the ground. Still, they stand on. People cherish them, really. I thought I understood why - national treasures and all that. But that doesn’t seem to be the case, not all of it. They cherish these walls... because that’s all they’ve ever known. Without the walls, what are they? You take the walls out, what do you have?”

“A beautiful city.”

“Exactly. Still a beautiful, enchanting city.”

Victor was silent for a couple of minutes after that and Yuuri let his words sink in.

“Remember when we talked about pirates in our honeymoon, Yuuri?” Victor said eventually. “It was in Santorini, not that long ago. I told you I thought I was a pirate in a past life I shared with you. But now, knowing all of this that I do, how pirates destroyed this city without mercy… I wouldn’t have wanted to be a pirate like that. I suppose I wouldn’t have wanted to be a pirate at all. Guess I was wrong about that theory, after all.”

“You were. We weren’t meant to be.”

Victor closed his eyes with a wince.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Your theory. I was a danseur, you were a pirate,” Yuuri recited from memory. “And we would always find each other, in this life or the next. I know now you were wrong, because I feel like I need to tell you something, Victor.”

Victor opened his eyes.

“I’ve been thinking,” Yuuri said, swallowing hard. “I’ve been thinking all day. Don’t feel like you need to explain yourself, because that’s really not the case. You know this has been going on for weeks. My accident, the fighting - it was just the tipping point. So I finally reached a decision on my own.”

“Yuuri, please don’t do this again.”

“I’m going to let you go.”

Yuuri reached for the ring in his pocket and placed it delicately into Victor’s palm, closing his unwilling fist around it.

“If that is your decision, Yuuri, then I feel like you should know something as well -  before you make me start wearing both of these rings for the rest of my life.”

Victor didn’t say it right away. The silver-haired took off his own ring with visible difficulty and held the two engravings together, making them match as they adjusted together. They turned into a single golden snowflake - not silver, like one would imagine.

“I like this city’s walls, Yuuri,” Victor faltered, “Because they resemble yours.”

Yuuri turned to look at him.

“I don’t hate them, I don’t resent them,” Victor said, exhausted. “I think they’re beautiful. I only wish you’ve kept me inside them, not out.”

Yuuri held back a sob on the bottom of his throat.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere, _solnyshko_ ” Victor smiled sadly.

“It came to me much later. In the club. He called you Vic. You _hate_ to be called Vic,” Yuuri accused unexpectedly, choking on his words as a tear fell down his cheek.

“I do now,” Victor said softly. “Antoine made me loathe that nickname. Yuuri, if you must know, I didn’t go because I had any residual feelings for him. Quite the contrary, actually.”

“Then what did you two talk about?”

“Antoine came here with his wife. They haven’t been in good terms in years, according to him. He… wants a divorce. He told me he wants a divorce... to finally be with the man that he loves. And he says I inspired him. Because of _you_.”

“Because of me?” Yuuri asked incredulously.

“Because of the way he saw you made me act, the way you changed me. How I dropped my career for you, how we kissed in live television and then ran away for the summer. He said he couldn’t believe it himself, but then again he ‘saw it with his own eyes’,” Victor huffed, imitating a poor French accent.

“You see, Antoine is the _premier danseur_ in the Paris Opera Ballet. He’s very much connected to the figure skating world not only because of obvious reasons, but also because of our history together. He was the grandson of my grandmère’s best friend, an artist who lived in Paris that she admired very much. I used to see Antoine many times a year in Marseille and eventually we grew to be close friends as children. Grandmère _loved_ him. Somehow, I always felt like she loved him in ways that she could never love me, a Russian born and bred like grandfather. She said Antoine ‘reminded her of someone’. Probably she just meant her home.”

“Did she miss France terribly?”

“Every day. It was painful to watch her,” Victor looked lost in thought. “But when mom died, she… just couldn’t take it. She started to lose her mind. After that, I didn’t see Antoine for years. Grandmère was secluded in St. Petersburg, funding my skating from a distance, since we didn’t live together anymore. She just stayed at home all day, every day, for many years, until she started to require a nurse to help her in her daily routine. At that point, I was sixteen.”

Yuuri knew what happened when Victor was sixteen. He never knew the reason, though, and never dared to ask.

“I finally had some time for myself after winning consecutive Juniors and I thought I should do something special to thank her, so I whisked her away to France. She was happy like she hadn’t been in years.”

Victor smiled longingly.

“I met Antoine again after almost a decade apart. He was different. But then again, so was I. I was infatuated with him for the entire off-season we spent together. Grandmère was over the moon about it. She remembered all the details I told her about the dates we spent just walking along the river, but she wouldn’t remember what she had for breakfast.  I knew we were gonna have to leave eventually and I didn’t know whose heart was gonna be more broken - hers or mine.”

Victor looked down.

“In the end… there wasn’t actually a choice. I caught Antoine cheating on me with a red-headed girl and I… overreacted. I came home screaming, I pulled my hair off, I broke things. I didn’t know grandmère was awake. She was so scared, Yuuri, she had a heart attack.”

Yuuri covered his gasp with a hand to his mouth. “Victor, I’m so sorry.”

“She recovered once we got her back to Russia to her doctors, but… she was never the same. I cut the rest of my hair off and swore to never let it grow back. I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.”

“I understand.” Yuuri said, serious. “I had no idea.”

“My point is,” Victor said, recomposing himself, “I don’t expect to know your every secret, Yuuri. I have my own. There are things… I’m ashamed of. People I have left behind. There’s much more to this story that I feel like I’ll never be able to share.”

“You don’t need to tell me anything you don’t feel comfortable remembering. I’ve loved you for who you are, Victor, not for what you’ve done. It’s of no consequence to me whatsoever the things of your past, but… you made me doubt you. You know how much I get anxious when you don’t explain things properly. You could have simply told me you were meeting your ex who was also a family friend, but no, you had to go all reticent, ranting about how you were gonna find your ‘first love’, what did you expect me to do? I completely lost it, Victor.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was my fault, anyway,” Yuuri corrected him. “Who am I to deny you closure? From stopping you from meeting with someone you cared about? Did Antoine even learn about what happened to your grandmother?”

“Eventually, yes. He never knew all that happened afterwards, though,” Victor sighed. “But, Yuuri. You have to trust I’ll be back for you, no matter how far you think I’ve gone. It has never crossed my mind that you… I was so focused on the past, I forgot to check your feelings. I’m completely to blame for that. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

Yuuri let his arm brush lightly over Victor’s, relaxing slightly as the last gleam of daylight faded into the horizon.

“Yuuri, _please_ take this back.”

Victor gestured to one of the two rings in his palm. “It’s driving me crazy… talking to you without it, holding it in my hand, please, at least just put it back for now. Just until we decide what we’re going to do. Then you give it to me again if you want to.”

It was the fact that Victor said all of this in Russian to Yuuri that broke him.

He held his knees up to his chest and started crying.

“I’m not taking it out again, never, not ever. Vitya, I’m such an idiot… I love you so much, it blinds me sometimes. Please, forgive me,” Yuuri extended his right arm to him. “Here, put it back on. I don’t know what I was thinking… Will you still have me anyway?”

“Always, my Yuuri,” Victor said, taking Yuuri’s hand and sewing their snowflake back on. “You don’t ever have to ask. The answer is yes.”

 

* * *

 

 

It took them a while to get down. Yuuri wasn’t sure how he even managed to climb all those steps and shaky rocks by himself with a less than decent knee, but Victor supported him by the hip, going first to test the balance in the structure. It was extra dangerous now that it was nighttime and they took every precaution not to injure Yuuri any further.

Victor asked him if he was hungry. “No,” Yuuri answered. Yuuri asked him if he wanted to go somewhere. “No, not really,” Victor admitted.

They ended up holding each other in bed for the second night in a row, lulled by the sound of Spanish voices in the news channel.

“What if I never skate again?” Yuuri wondered, tracing lazy patterns on Victor’s back.

“Then we’ll just have to create a travel agency and become tour guides.”

“Really?”

“We’ll have our own bus. I know how you like riding in flashy buses.”

“It _is_ fun,” Yuuri countered. “You’d submit yourself to owning a tourist bus?”

“I’d… consider it, for you.”

“Wow,” Yuuri murmured, impressed. “Tell me more.”

“We’d travel the whole world in our bus. You take care of the money, I take care of the show.”

“Who would drive the bus, though?”

“Yurio.”

“Of course.”

“Sometimes the bus wouldn’t be crowded in the off-season – global crisis and all that. Then, it would just be you and me and the open road.”

“Where would you take me?”

“I’d let you choose.”

“I’d wanna go to Romania.”

“We’ve never really been there, have we?” Victor laughed a little. “Then it would stop being an inside joke, though.”

“True. Worth it either way.”

Yuuri smiled and threw his arms around Victor, spooning him at last. He rested his head on the crook of Victor’s shoulder.

“While I would love nothing more than to spend the rest of my life roadtripping with you,” Yuuri whispered to his ear, “I’m afraid we’re gonna have to be a bit more realistic than that.”

“Why?” Victor pouted.

“Because even your brilliant plan has flaws. We wouldn’t be able to take Makkachin with us, you know. He’s too old for that kind of constant adventuring now.”

“You’re right,” Victor conceded, slumping. “A few days without him is manageable, but… not an entire year. Not acceptable at all. It seems like we must stay in St. Petersburg for a while longer, my love.”

“Which brings me back to my first question,” Yuuri nudged.

“Yuuri, you know where I stand on this,” Victor said, more seriously now. “You might like it or not, but if it were up to just me, you’d be ready to win your third GP and fourth Worlds next season. You will overcome this problem, just like you did so many others.”

“I wish I had that kind of confidence,” Yuuri sighed.

“You don’t have to,” Victor rebutted. “That’s what I’m here for.”

“You’re my confidence and I’m your conscience?”

“My own, personal Jiminy Cricket,” Victor agreed.

“Then let your conscience be your guide with these next few words of worldly advice,” Yuuri said mysteriously in a low voice. He got even closer to Victor’s ear and whispered, “Take Yurio as a student next season.”

Victor almost choked. “What?”

“You heard me. I know you’ve been busy choreographing for so many different skaters, as well as coaching me and… writing that book - don’t think I don’t know about it. But I think it’s finally time. It’s been a long way coming, and I know how he’s always looked forward to that possibility. Yakov wants to retire, Vitya. It’s about time you took over.”

“You really think so?” Victor asked hesitantly.

“I do.”

“But what about you?”

“I do have a college degree that I need to put to use some time, love. It was very expensive, you know.”

“Yuuri, I’m happy you have plans in case things don’t go as planned, I really am. But let’s wait a bit until this little devil gets unswollen, okay? We have the whole summer to decide what we’ll do next.”

“Okay,” Yuuri acquiesced. “We don’t make a point of deciding the big things during holidays, anyway.”

“But that always seems to be the case, doesn’t it?” Victor provoked.

“Shup up,” Yuuri said fondly.

The local TV news went on an article about the nightlife in Cartagena, displaying some places they’ve been to since getting here, with unfortunate emphasis in Calle Media Luna, the street where the club from yesterday was located.

“So,” Yuuri started, unsure. “Are we gonna talk about that?”

“Talk about what?” Victor said, too innocently.

“About how we pretended to hit on each other like we were strangers last night.”

“Oh, that. No, we are not.”

“We could think of it as our second first date.”

“I like that.”

“I knew you would.”

“You know, I would have fallen in love with you anyway. If I hadn’t known you then and… seen you there,” Victor confessed. “You have a way of catching my eye. I guess I’ve been looking for you in every club I’ve been my whole life.”

“Now that you've mentioned that... I didn’t wanna ask, I swear,” Yuuri tried, hiding his face with a blush. “But don’t you think it’s a little odd that Antoine looks so much like me?”

“Yuuri, _no_. I know what you’re thinking. You two are completely different. I don’t have a _type_.”

_Okay, good to know._

“You do have a type,” Yuuri argued, mischievous. “It’s me.”

Yuuri slid his hand down Victor’s pants and played with the waistband of his boxers.

“Oh, yeah?” Victor said, taking a gulp of air.

“I’ve been reliably informed that’s a real Victor fact,” Yuuri grabbed one of his cheeks firmly, making Victor arch on the bed. “And even if it weren’t… you don’t have a choice now. I’m gonna keep you.”

“You are?” Victor pressed with his voice wrecked. “Until when, if I may ask?”

“Forever. You’re mine, Vitya.” Yuuri said, then sucked hard on the back of his neck.

He forcefully turned Victor around and pressed his lips against his for a second, before plunging his tongue into Victor’s mouth. Yuuri spread both of his arms around him and used his hands on Victor’s ass to push him closer, making Victor hum into their kiss.

The new position allowed Yuuri to grind their hips together, setting a maddening rhythm until Victor was panting against him, begging for more, eyes hazy with unadulterated desire. The friction in their cocks was lovely, but not enough, not tonight.

Tonight, Yuuri was gonna take control.

He stood up suddenly, and Victor whined at the loss of contact, but Yuuri made a bee line for his suitcase and took the bottle of lube from a bag, tossing the lid aside. He came back and sat over Victor, pulling him back into another bruising kiss.

Preparing Victor was always the most rewarding part in sex for Yuuri. While Yuuri himself was more of a moaner, biting his pleasure into a pillow when he had to, Victor was definitely a screamer when he was the one who bottomed between them. He reacted with unprecedented bliss at everything Yuuri’s hands seemed to do - the way his cock slid snugly inside him, Yuuri’s mouth smoothing out his entrance with care. Victor loved it all and wasn’t afraid to be vocal about it.

Victor bucked his hips against Yuuri’s fingers that had found their way into his hole, yelling for “ _more_ ” and “ _faster_ ” and “Yuuri, _please_.”

Yuuri obliged, taking his fingers out with a loud plop and turning Victor into lying in the bed on all fours. He lined himself up in a haste and and breeched in. Victor went insane with lust, not wasting a moment to start moving and meeting Yuuri’s thrusts.

But Yuuri wouldn’t have that, _he_ was the one in control.

“I’m gonna give it to you good, Vitya. Don’t move.”

Yuuri grabbed Victor’s hair with a hand and tugged at it, earning another surprised scream from his husband. Yuuri took advantage of that and pushed Victor’s hips up, pounding into him more relentlessly with the new added pressure. Victor’s head was turned back with the force of Yuuri’s hand and his mouth was open in a perfect “O” shape - and Yuuri was almost afraid he was hurting him, when he heard him say between screams:

“You’ve ruined me, Yuuri. You’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

“I’m the only one,” Yuuri groaned, canting his hips sharply, “And no one else can have you.”

Yuuri took his hand out of Victor’s hair and put both of them around Victor’s waist, thrusting fast and merciless now. When Victor’s knees and arms gave out and he fell down on the bed, Yuuri followed him immediately, showering his shoulder blade with open-mouthed kisses.

“Yuuri,” Victor moaned. “Yuuri,” he moaned more insistently.

Yuuri kept hitting his prostate with every snap of his hips, so close to orgasm himself he was lost in a fog of lust.

“Yuuri, baby, I can’t come like this,” Victor whined desperately, “You’re trapping me, I…”

“Sorry, sorry,” Yuuri said, using his left leg to push Victor’s weight to the side, where he could put a hand between their bodies and bring Victor’s cock to orgasm as well, still thrusting frantically even as they shifted positions.

“Aahhh, I’m close, I’m close,” Victor screamed and Yuuri finally let go, giving it all he got until Victor was coming and coming, and Yuuri stroked him through it, only then allowing his own body to come inside him when his husband stilled, satisfied.

They lay there on their sides, unmoving, until either of them could regain their breaths.

“That… was awesome.” Victor managed after some time. “Remind me to make you possessive of me more often.”

“Please, don’t,” Yuuri pleaded, kissing the side of his head gently.

“Why not?” Victor asked, smiling sheepishly.

“Because that usually comes from a place of insecurity inside me,” Yuuri confessed into his ear, “And I hate feeling like I need to claim you to myself all over again. You’re _mine_ and let’s be done with it. You know it, I know it.”

“Okay,” Victor agreed. “I’m yours, _solnyshko_. Always and forever. Just like you are mine. But…”

“But?” Yuuri’s eyes widened in confusion.

“How would ever feel about... roleplaying?”

“Oh, my god.”

“We could have many, many first dates again… without fighting, of course. Just you and me, meeting for the first time over and over again… in a little café in Italy, in the crazy streets of Morocco, in a little hut in Romania…”

“Victor, you’re ridiculous,” Yuuri blushed furiously.

“ _Oh_ , how I’ve missed you saying that,” Victor turned around in his embrace and kissed him softly on the lips. “Is that a yes then?”

“It’s a… maybe.”

Victor kissed him again.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, silly.” Yuuri said, impossibly fond. “Let me get up so I can clean us up, okay?”

They eventually asked for room service again – Victor called, of course. Normally he would have argued it was a complete waste to visit somewhere new and only eat the hotel food, but Yuuri was sure it didn’t even cross his mind now. It certainly didn’t cross his.

They dodged too many bullets in the last few days and needed their rightful time to recharge in each other’s presence in peace.

Well, they were still here for a couple of days, there was certainly going to be time for experiencing the local cuisine. Starting tomorrow.

Yuuri turned off the TV and climbed into bed next to Victor. The moonlight coming from the window sharpened his features and made him look all the more striking; his silver hair appearing almost white from this perspective, like a fallen down angel with broken wings that Yuuri had tempted.

Yuuri let himself be spooned this time, glad to be completely surrounded by Victor’s body and scent.

He relaxed in his husband’s arms.

“You know I’ll never ask, Vitya,” Yuuri started quietly after a few minutes of silence. “But do you think you’ll ever tell me about it?”

“About what, _solnyshko_?”

“This thing that bothers you.”

“A lot of things bother me.”

“I know, but there’s this one thing that seems to bother you the most,” Yuuri said, unsure he should be even mentioning this.

“You’ve noticed, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t worry, Yuuri. It’s nothing to do with us,” Victor said, trying to reassure him by holding him tighter.

“I just want you to know that I’m here for you. For whatever you need.”

“I know, my love. And I’ll tell you. Someday.”

“Okay.”

“We probably should go to sleep now,” Victor warned, entwining their hands together.

“Yeah, we probably should…” Yuuri agreed.

He fell asleep counting the beats of Victor’s heart.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 **Phichit:** don’t think you’ve managed to escape from our little talk, young man

 **Phichit:** but for now

 **Phichit:** i just want you to know, yuuri

 **Phichit:** that im proud of you

 **Phichit:** and that you’re the absolute BEST.

 **Phichit:** you dirty little boy

 **Phichit:** ( **͡** ° **͜ʖ ͡** °)

 

 

Yuuri paced around the room nervously. Victor had just woken up to use the toilet, and Yuuri wasn’t sure how he was gonna react when he found out.

His husband emerged from the bathroom.

He looked impossibly smug.

“ _Yuuri_ …” he singsonged.

“Yes, darling?” Yuuri said with a neutral expression.

“You know how your Instagram feed has _two_ pictures now?”

“Just two, really?”

“Yes. The first one you posted in Barcelona a few years ago, because I made you do it. You said you were never gonna post there again.”  

“Did I say that?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I must have changed my mind.”

“So you posted a picture of our entwined hands while I was sleeping.”

“Are you… mad?” Yuuri asked cautiously.

“Of course not!” Victor practically squeed. “It’s beautiful! I especially love the detail of our naked hips under the sheets. You can’t see anything, but the suggestion is there. Good thinking, baby!”

Yuuri wanted to go crawl under a rock and die. “I’ll… I’ll delete it now!”

“No, no, no, you will do no such thing!” Victor ran to grab Yuuri’s phone before he could reach it.

Victor snatched the phone away and held it over Yuuri’s head with his superior Russian arms until Yuuri eventually gave up trying to regain it.

Victor exploited Yuuri’s proximity and quickly scooped him into his arms, half-carrying almost a hundred and fifty pounds of angry Japanese into the bed, where he dropped him and landed over him.

“Don’t delete it. I loved it.” Victor kissed his nose. “Also, by this point, everyone already has a copy of it.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Why did you do it, _solnyshko_?”

“I… I wanted to show the engravings in our rings. No one ever knew we even had them, and they’re so pretty, I…”

“Okay. But why did you _really_ do it?” Victor pressured.

“Just in case.”

“Just in case of what?”

“Just in case.” Yuuri repeated, pulling him down for a greedy kiss.

 

 

 **katsukiyuuri** | what we have is one of a kind. | _posted 5 hours ago_

♥ 142,267 likes

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys. Sorry for playing with your hearts.
> 
> This one was hard for me. It was a completely different story altogether in my notes, but somehow it changed drastically in the first draft - consistently becoming angstier and angstier as I struggled with my writing and my ability to “English”.
> 
> I kept it that way even though it wasn’t what I intended to do. I would never write cheating Victuuri, so if you’re anything like me, I hope you weren’t put off by that beginning (and the introduction of Antoine).
> 
> Still, I feel like that was an important shift in the story that had to happen. We’re heading towards the end now and that’s where things get pretty serious (it’s nothing to do with their relationship itself, though). Victor has a past he’s been hiding and he can’t catch a plane and run from it anymore. He has a responsibility and he’s gonna need Yuuri’s help if he wants to remain sane and end up forgiving himself in the process. Ominous much?
> 
> Anyway, this is getting long. Just wanted to let you guys know that I put the Disneyland installment in this series has been put in the shelf for a while. Maybe later if you’re interested in reading it, but for now my priority is moving on with the plot (because, anyway, it’s getting harder and harder to keep myself motivated to write these days, even this series. It’s a bummer).
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, though! Reading your thoughts always brightens up my day and you’re so kind to me, it’s unbelievable. It’s amazing to know some of you are so invested in these stories, and that always helps when I’m feeling stuck and out of ideas. Please also consider subscribing to my profile to know when the final part is up.
> 
> Next stop: Paris. Dear passengers, we’ll have reached the end of the line.
> 
> (i’m funny-little-owl on tumblr and i'm also on [twitter](https://twitter.com/funnylittleowl) if you ever feel like talking <3)


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